


It Sure Would Be Prettier With You

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Kinktober 2018 [25]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Thats all there is to it, just two husbands in different parts of the world, missing each other and jacking off, there's not much else to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 18:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Alistair is away on a mission, and James can't fall back asleep.





	It Sure Would Be Prettier With You

**Author's Note:**

> Day twenty-five was olfactophila, or scent kink, and while that's not necessarily central to the fic, it is there. I'm not overly thrilled this one, but I hope you like it.
> 
> Title is from When I'm Gone (I think by Anna Kendrick?).

James groaned into his pillow as the alarm went off, forcing him rudely from the pleasant dream he’d been having – pleasant in the sense that not only was Alistair with him at home, but also doing something absolutely delightful involving a cock ring and some kind of sticky syrup. James reached out blindly for the nightstand, only managing to push his phone off it, the alarm still blaring as it fell, forcing him to all but climb out of bed to silence it.

He grumbled inarticulately as the noise ceased, dropping his phone unceremoniously back onto the nightstand and flopping back against the bed, burying his face in his pillow. The bed was too warm even with James’s habit of sleeping in the nude, the blankets all piled up on top of him without his blanket-stealing partner to snatch them away. He kicked the covers off and turned over onto his back with a huff, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t have to get up yet; he’d simply forgotten to turn the alarm off when he’d went to bed last night, but now that he was awake he knew it would take ages to fall back asleep.

He reached idly down his body without looking, petting over his cock, which was still hard from the remnants of the dream floating out of his consciousness. The touch was unsatisfying, and he let his hand drop again, letting out a loud sigh.

On the nightstand, his phone lit up, bathing the room in a blue-white glow. James reached for it, squinting at the message displayed.

_Put on your glasses._

James scrambled for them, joy surging up inside him, and he fumbled them on, sitting back against the headboard as he opened their private channel. It had been set up for them by Merlin after he’d realized his subtle comments about how anything sent over one of Kingsman’s open channels would be reviewed by a handler, namely him, were being ignored.

“Darling?”

“Can’t sleep?” Alistair’s voice was a relief, warming James from the inside out.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“The cameras,” Alistair said simply, and James glanced automatically towards the painting on the wall opposite the bed, where a tiny camera was embedded in the frame (for “break-in” reasons, James had suggested innocently when Merlin had groaned over them requisitioning Kingsman tech for personal use). A grin spread across his face.

“Were you watching me while I slept? Naughty boy.”

He could almost hear Alistair’s eyeroll. “You know I have it set up to alert me to unusual movement while I’m away. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’d be better if you were here with me. What time is it there?”

“Late,” Alistair said. “It’s been a long day.”

A shot of guilt lanced through James. “Go to bed, darling. Don’t let me keep you up.”

“That’s why I called, love. I was rather hoping you could put me to sleep.”

The words were delivered with an idle tone, much less suggestive than they would have been had James been the one saying them, but the message was clear nonetheless. James grinned. “Oh?”

“I believe the effects could be mutually beneficial.”

“I believe you might be right, darling.” James reached for the nightstand, fetching a bottle of lube and settling down on his back again, “How would you like me?”

“In the same bed as me, but this will do for the time being. Slick your fingers, love.”

James obeyed, listening closely, trying to get a hint as to whether Alistair was doing the same. He couldn’t tell. He wrapped his fingers around his half-hard cock, stroking slowly. Normally he’d start a bit quicker, always did on his own, but Alistair preferred to take his time, and James always liked what Alistair did.

“Are you touching yourself?” James asked as his cock hardened fully under his hand. “Talk to me, darling.”

“Yes,” Alistair murmured.

“Tell me about it. Tell me how you’re pleasuring yourself. You know how it gets me going.”

Alistair hesitated, momentarily shy even after all those years together, and James couldn’t help but smile. He twisted his wrist, catching the underside of the head just right with his fingers, moaning softly in satisfaction.

It was like the noise woke Alistair, and his voice was suddenly stronger, more in control. “I’m hardly using any pressure, just ghosting my fingers along my cock. I’m hard anyway, so very hard listening to you. I can hear you, you know. Slower than I expected; you’re always so quick to the punch, but I suspect you’ve still got a nice, tight grip. Never could resist the pleasure, could you, my love?”

James groaned, squeezing even tighter. “Well, I needed to make some concessions. You like it when I go slow.”

“You like it too,” Alistair said. “You love it when I run my tongue over every inch of your body before finally wrapping my mouth around your cock. You love how I can tease you for hours on end before I take pity on you and sink into your tight, needy arse.”

“Yes,” James breathed. His strokes picked up, and Alistair fell silent. Frowning, James paused, and then Alistair spoke again.

“Slow is preferable, love, because it means I can enjoy each and every second of pleasure I wring from your body. Slow lets me overwhelm you, make you beg, makes it so much sweeter when it’s over.”

James got the message, and when he resumed moving his hand over his cock he was in pace with Alistair, slow and rhythmic, drawing it out with long pulls and tight squeezes around the base.

“That’s it,” Alistair murmured. “I don’t even have to ask, and you already do what I want. What we both want.”

“I’d do anything for you,” James said without hesitation.

“I know, my love. I know.”

“Keep talking? Please?”

“I’m gripping myself properly now,” Alistair narrated, and James closed his eyes, picturing it. He tilted his head to the side, pressing his cheek against Alistair’s pillow and breathing in the lingering scent of his husband, and suddenly the fantasy burst into vivid life. “I couldn’t help it; your bad habits are rubbing off on me. Sometimes literally.”

James couldn’t help but snort, and he could swear there was a smile in Alistair’s voice as he continued, “I love that, you know. It’s what I’m thinking about right now: picturing you rubbing off against me like a bitch in heat, the way you whine and beg for just a bit more pressure, so desperate to get off. It makes me so hard thinking about it, how easy it is to control you with only a promise of bliss.”

James pictured it too, remembered how it felt to be on his knees, nose pressed into the juncture of Alistair’s hip, inhaling the pure, masculine scent of his partner’s pleasure and being denied the opportunity to taste, rutting his hips against the leg shoved carelessly between them, like his pleasure was an afterthought rather than a carefully designed torture. He groaned, working his hand a little faster now. He could almost picture Alistair with him still, surrounded by his scent, breathing deeply as he fought to last.

“You’re going faster,” Alistair said. “That’s alright. I am too. I can’t help it; it almost hurts, how hard my cock is. Throbbing in my grip, wishing you were here so I could press you into the mattress, haul you up on your hands and knees and plough into that beautiful arse of yours.”

Without thinking about it, James matched position, all but suffocating himself in the pillow, arse on display for the camera. He could tell Alistair was still watching as his husband’s breath hitched. “Oh, that is lovely.”

The slick sound over the glasses was driving James mad. The hand between his legs, pumping furiously at his leaking cock, wasn’t enough. He reached down with the other one too, pushing back behind his balls, rubbing against his perineum even as he slid his thumb firmly over the head of his cock, wiping away the fluid even as it was replaced by more and more as he wrung it out, desperately hard and aching with the sensations. “You’re going to finger yourself, aren’t you?” Alistair sounded utterly wrecked. “Go on, love. I want to watch you push into that greedy arse, want to see you get off knowing that it’s not as good as the real thing, knowing I’m watching and imagining how much better it would feel for both of us if it was really me sinking deep inside of you, filling you up in ways your fingers don’t even begin to.”

The first finger burned a little going in, but it didn’t matter. James gasped as he pumped it in and out, almost able to imagine Alistair’s firm hands on his hips, holding him down against the mattress as James was prepped to take his cock. “Beautiful,” Alistair said, his voice choked, and James recognized that sound, knew his husband was close. He slid in a second finger because one wasn’t enough, and it was almost the sense of fullness he craved.

“I want to watch you come,” Alistair breathed. “I want to see you come with your fingers up your arse and your hand on your cock, biting into a pillow that smells like me because you can’t get off any other way, can you? You’ll never be satisfied again, not without knowing that I’m here, surrounding you, ready to make you feel so good because your pleasure is my pleasure.”

“Alistair,” James whimpered, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Darling, please.”

“You’re close, aren’t you? I am too. You need to come so badly, you’re probably leaking all over yourself. I’ll bet your thighs are shiny with your precum, you’ve been making so much of it. Wet and gagging for it. My perfect little slut.”

James wanted to cry. Alistair wasn’t wrong; his thighs were soaked, and he was making a mess of the blankets beneath him. He didn’t care. He scissored his fingers apart, trying to get a little more of the stretch, a little bit closer to the heavy, blunt feeling of Alistair’s cock inside him, pressing in and making him see stars.

“Come, James,” Alistair demanded. “Let me watch you come.”

James gasped and spilled over his hand, clenching tight around the fingers inside of him. His semen added to the mess beneath him, striping the bed in long pulses as he kept working his cock frantically until it started to sting, gulping in lungfuls of Alistair’s scent as he tried to prolong the moment. Over the glasses, he heard Alistair grunt, and knew his husband was coming too.

He slowed down, only finally stopping when his cock felt raw, releasing himself and slumping down onto the bed without bothering to turn over. The mattress was wet, disgusting against his bare skin, but with his face buried in the pillow it was almost like he was pressed against his partner, their fluids smeared together in the wake of their orgasms.

Almost.

As he listened to Alistair pant, he finally rolled over onto his back, out of the wet spot. Still staring at the ceiling, he said, very quietly, “I miss you terribly.”

“I know,” Alistair said, his voice softer now, devoid of the commanding tone and purely affectionate, if a little wistful. “I miss you too. I hate being away from you like this.”

“It’s the nature of the job,” James sighed.

“I wish it wasn’t.”

“Could be worse, I suppose. We could be doing this over the phone. I don’t know how I would managed to balance that. I feel I don’t have enough hands as it is.”

Alistair snorted at James’s suggestive tone. “You’d put it on speaker. Honestly, love, I was trying to be sincere.”

“So was I.” But the playfulness had gone, leaving something empty in James’s chest. He put his hand over it, fingers stroking against his heart. “You mean so much to me. Come home safe, my darling. I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t.”

“I’ll do my best,” Alistair promised him. “Go to sleep now, James.”

“Just a moment longer?” James begged, knowing it was selfish to keep his husband up but unable to bear the thought of hanging up on him.

Alistair relented. “Alright,” he said. “A moment longer.”

Neither of them spoke, but when James finally fell back asleep, Alistair was still on the line.


End file.
